


Morning Mood

by tomatopudding



Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Morning Routines, Short & Sweet, Slice of Life, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: Prompt: A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: With a Thousand Sweet Kisses (I'll Cover You) [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420288
Comments: 1
Kudos: 71





	Morning Mood

**Author's Note:**

> Find the the kisses prompt list here.
> 
> I don't think it exactly fits the prompt, but I needed this fluff.

Aziraphale had always loved having his routines. No matter what city or what century it was, he would always dig out his own little corner and create the supportive structure of scheduled time that brought him pleasure. The same could be said about the time he spent in London with his bookshop. At least, until the eleven years before the Apocalypse. That had come with a routine all its own. But now that it was over, Aziraphale was more than happy to settle back into a routine. 

His morning began with the rising of the sun. While he didn’t sleep, he tended to spend nights in bed these days usually reading. But with the rising of the sun, so, too, was the rising of Aziraphale. He descended the charmingly creaky stairs (of course he could make them silent with a thought, but Aziraphale thought that it gave the the cottage  _ character _ ) to the cozy kitchen. He had always found making tea the human way relaxing, filling the kettle and letting it heat slowly on the stove, preparing his favorite floral tea set. The woman who ran the local bakery had a soft spot for him and would send her son with a basket with a selection of the day’s first batch of pastries every morning, which Aziraphale would arrange artfully on a plate just as the kettle began to whistle. The first cup of tea would be shared with the baker’s son. The second cup of tea would be shared with one of his favorite authors (he was working his way through his collection in alphabetical order, savoring them in the way he hadn’t been able to do for so long, no longer worried about being at Heaven’s every beck and call). 

But while all of this was well and good, Aziraphale’s favorite part of the morning came when it was nearly over. He was usually too engrossed in whatever hobby had pulled his interest (these days he was building and painting birdhouses) to hear the creaking of the stairs but the hand on his shoulder always did the trick. 

“Morning, angel,” Crowley would murmur.

Aziraphale no longer had to hide the way his face lit up every time he saw his darling demon, tilting his chin up to accept the gentle press of lips against his own. 

  
  



End file.
